


Duet

by afrai



Series: Lieder [3]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Banter, Courtship, Domestic, F/M, Headcanon, Marriage Proposal, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/pseuds/afrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Strange, upon the occasion of his becoming<br/>1. A magician.<br/>2. Betrothed.</p><p>A missing scene taking place just after the events of the first episode. (3/4)</p><p>
  <em>"You are so certain of what I will say that it seems hardly necessary for me to speak at all," Arabella observed. "You seem perfectly capable of carrying on the conversation for the both of us!"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duet

Jonathan awoke all at once, cleanly, and did not at first know where he was. The inn's rafters looked quite different in daylight. It took him a moment to recall that he was in Cumberland; a magician; and soon to be married.

The recollection gave him a great deal of pleasure. He promptly continued the thought upon which he had fallen asleep. He had been thinking of Ashfair and the improvements it required before it would be fit to welcome his bride. In the fresh light of morning his father's house did not seem so bad as it had appeared the night before. He thought in fact that they might not need to have anything substantial done before they could settle there.

The only change he would wish to be made before he brought Arabella to the house would be to fit out that room in the east wing, which his mother had altered for her own use. This had been one of the few indulgences his father had permitted her. After her death the room had fallen into disuse, for his father had had no need of it, but it had a good north light and it would do well as a parlour for Arabella. It was not large but it could be made very pretty, and she would have plenty of light by which to draw. 

Perhaps Jonathan would install a window seat there. He was at once taken with the notion: he could envision Arabella sitting in a window seat in her morning dress, with her sketchbook on her knee and her dark curls grazing her forehead. 

It was a charming image. He diverted himself for a while in considering it. It was easy to imagine kneeling next to her, burying his face in the corner where her neck and shoulder joined, and kissing the soft skin there. Gathering her into his arms and kissing her lips and her throat. 

He could not recall ever having seen Arabella with her hair loose, but he could picture how it would smell and feel, a fragrant fall of silk. He could picture, too, how Arabella would look in a state of undress – tousled and flushed, perhaps a little shy, but teasing too.

He buried his face in his pillow, his hand stealing beneath the sheets.

It is of the utmost importance to plan any alterations to one's house with careful aforethought. Jonathan considered his scheme of improvements with such close attention, lingering over each delicious detail, that it was some time before he got out of bed.

The sun was high in the sky before he had pulled himself together sufficiently to rise, shave and dress. As Jeremy tied his neckcloth, it occurred to Jonathan that in order for his fancies to be realised, he must first propose and be accepted.

It was a bright cold winter's morning and the light was such that he could not doubt that his offer would be accepted. He was persuaded Arabella loved him; he could not have so misunderstood her look and manner. Her only real objection was dealt with now that he had an occupation. 

Jonathan recalled with complacency the spell he had cast the day before and rummaged in his effects to find it again. The cracked green mirror on the wall showed the same middle-aged gentleman as they had seen the night before. Jonathan's enemy had put off his wig and now wore an odd sort of cap, but otherwise he was engaged in the same occupation, in the same place as before: he was reading quietly in a library.

Jonathan watched him for a while, but his enemy was not stimulating company, and further inspection did not uncover any recollection of him. Jonathan grew bored. Since he did not know how to terminate the spell, he simply turned the mirror against the wall.

It was too early to visit Henry. Likely the Woodhopes were still at breakfast. Jonathan settled in the inn's coffee room with a book, but he could not stop his mind from wandering, and he often had recourse to studying the ring he had brought with him from Ashfair.

It was a gold ring with garnets and pearls set in the shape of a flower, which had belonged to his mother. It had been a gift from her own parents and thus possessed the great virtue of having no associations with his father. He recalled seeing it on his mother's hand, and he thought it would look well on Arabella's, too.

When Jonathan had been staring at his book for ten minutes together without comprehending it, he decided to ride over to the parsonage after all. The Woodhopes rose early as a rule. They must surely be ready for company by now.

He went alone ("You must find your own diversions today, Jeremy; I cannot always be at hand to entertain you") and though the distance was not long, the journey gave him time to grow apprehensive. The sun had gone behind a cloud and the country wore a solemn wintry aspect. As Jonathan rode through it, he began to remember all the times when he had been very near the point, or had as good as offered Arabella his hand and heart, only to have her decline these.

She had not rejected him, of course. It was only that it was not the right time – they did not know one another well enough yet – a delay would not injure their prospects of happiness – there would be time enough to make lasting promises when he had secured an occupation. 

Disappointing as they had been, these reasons had all sounded plausible at the time. They had not suggested what he most feared, that she did not in truth care to marry him. And yet their result had been the same: she had not accepted his suit.

Still, he had an occupation now. His mind reverted to the image in the mirror at the inn, so reassuringly unlike anything that ought to be reflected in its watery depths.

But what if Arabella deemed magic an unsuitable profession? It was not very much like other occupations. Jonathan had not looked at a newspaper in some time, and he was innocent of the great feats Mr. Norrell had already achieved. He did not rightly know what a magician did, other than read books.

To be sure, Arabella had never said she wished him to do anything in _particular_. She had denied any charge of desiring him to win glory. She only wished him to be sensibly occupied with a pursuit worthier than the usual amusements with which young monied gentlemen diverted themselves.

But Arabella did prize constancy. Constancy to _her_ he had never lacked, but he could not claim fidelity to any other lodestar. What if she demanded that he prove his ability not only to be, but to remain, a magician? She might say she would not marry him till he had been a magician for a year, or even two. He had only purchased three spells from the vagabond. He could scarcely make them stretch over two whole years. What was he to do?

These reflections were so troubling that Jonathan arrived at Henry's new parsonage a man transformed in outlook and aspect from the cheerful suitor who had embarked from the inn half an hour ago. He rang the doorbell in a state of pitiable anxiety, which was not improved by the resounding silence with which he was greeted. He tried the doorknob, however, and the door opened beneath his hand.

Arabella was not in the drawing room, nor in the room where they had dined the night before. In fact there seemed to be nobody about: hallooing produced no effect. 

He tried the stairs. Hearing voices, he followed the sound into a large airy room full of light, but not much else. 

Arabella was standing on a chair, pasting paper upon the wall, with the assistance of a strange woman.

"Oh, Jonathan!" she said, startled. The woman below her jumped as though she thought Arabella might fling herself off the chair, and Jonathan reached out, but Arabella descended from the chair in perfect safety, giving them both an amused sidelong look.

"I beg you will forgive us for receiving you in such confusion," said Arabella. "Henry's only maid's mother has been taken ill. If Mrs. Hurst had not been so kind as to oblige, we should not have had any help. Pray take a seat. Mrs. Hurst, would you be so good as to bring us some tea? You will want tea, I am sure, Jonathan."

What Jonathan chiefly wanted was ten minutes alone with Arabella, though five would do at a pinch. Fortunately Mrs. Hurst was a woman of good understanding: she had the measure of Jonathan at once. She quit the room with obliging despatch, resolved to take her time over the tea. She was a kindly woman and did not see why such an amiable young lady as Miss Woodhope should not be married. It was said in the village that Mr. Jonathan Strange had two thousand a year and a house in London.

Arabella's curls were restrained by a ribbon and she wore a dark apron, across which was already a broad light stripe imparted by contact with the walls. She had clearly not dressed for visitors, but the effect was altogether charming, at least to Jonathan's partial gaze.

"I am sorry for putting you out," he said, looking at the half-covered walls. "I did not think to find you at work."

Arabella would have been appalled to receive any other guest in such a state, but Jonathan was a different matter: he would not mind how he found them.

"I did not come for my amusement, you know," she said.

"No," said Jonathan. "To be sure!"

Arabella had some suspicion of what Jonathan must intend, now that he had committed himself to a new occupation. But the greater part of her mind was taken up with the cares of Henry's household, and of course Jonathan would not propose now – the circumstances were hardly propitious. His father was only just buried, and the prosaic pursuit in which Jonathan found her engaged was scarcely a spur to sentiment.

"You are not tired from your journey yesterday, Jonathan? Then I shall put you to work. We are fixing a border along there – " Arabella pointed towards the cornice – "where the paper is to stop, but it is an awkward distance for me to reach. It will be nothing to you. You will not mind climbing upon this chair?"

Not at all, said Jonathan. He delighted in climbing upon a chair. 

He was pleased to be of service: it accorded well with his mood to have the opportunity to show Arabella how useful and active he could be, but he might have promised more than he was capable of. Once he had attained the heights required of him, he did not very well know how to proceed.

"What is it you wish to be done?" he said to Arabella. "The border fixed, did you say?"

"It is the easiest thing in the world," Arabella promised. "Now, do you take this end …. "

Her instructions were perfectly clear, but Jonathan was not accustomed to such work. As he struggled with the border – it would keep going awry as soon as he took his eye away from it – it occurred to him to ask if Arabella had fixed a border before. She nodded.

"After my father died we put a new paper on the walls of his study, at the house in Clunbury," she said. "It makes a vast deal of difference, though you may not think it. It will often be cold and dark here in the north, and Henry will feel more cheerful for having bright colours around him. I suppose _you_ have never papered a room in your life!"

"Oh, we magicians do not lower ourselves to such tasks, you know," said Jonathan. He fixed the border to his satisfaction and gazed upon it with complacency. "Save for our particular friends."

"For which condescension we are much obliged to 'we magicians'," said Arabella, amused. "I wonder what Mrs. Hurst is about! If she means to take much longer I may as well go on. You will not mind, will you, Jonathan?"

She took his place on the chair, scrambling up nimbly. "Would you pass me the brush? The paste is in the pot on the table."

But Arabella's reference to Mrs. Hurst had recalled Jonathan to his intention in riding over. The woman could not be much longer. She would be back again directly, and he would have lost his chance, for there were two bare walls yet unpapered – surely a day's work at least.

He felt little enough able to frame his offer in suitable terms, capable of conveying the depth of his affections and persuading her of the necessity of accepting them. But the prospect of being compelled to swallow his wishes could not be endured. He must try his luck now, and bear the consequence – though now he was come to the moment, he was not at all sure of his success.

"Arabella!" he said abruptly. "In truth, I came with but one desire."

"The paste, Jonathan, if you would be so kind," said Arabella.

She meant no incivility, for being absorbed in her task she had not registered the import of Jonathan's words or seen the look on his face. But Jonathan's nerves were screwed up to such a pitch that he could not bear to be diverted.

"Really, Arabella, I beg you will not interrupt!" he exclaimed. "Let me say my piece. I have done all you asked. I have an occupation. You always said that would give me the right to address you, as I do now."

To Jonathan, looking up, Arabella seemed haloed in the light from the windows. If he had been anything but what he was, he might have thought to arrange his features in a fashion befitting a suitor. Instead he was squinting, and he looked rather desperate, as though he already anticipated the failure of his venture.

"It is not that I believe I am worthy of you," he continued in a hurried manner. "But I should do everything in my power to make you happy. You will say I am distractible. Perhaps that is right, but I assure you I am resolved to make a success of this magic business. I believe I am much better suited to being a magician than to anything else I have tried before. 

"Perhaps it is hubris to call oneself a magician when one has only cast a single spell. I see no reason why I should not succeed in casting the other two, however, and when that is done, why, there are bound to be other spells in England. I shall look into it – read books. That will give me plenty to do. 

"It is true no one has managed to extract an income from magic in hundreds of years. No one respectable, that is! But fortunately I am not required to have a proper sort of profession. I am so circumstanced that we may live very comfortably without it. Of course, my chief occupation will be to ensure your happiness. You are all I have ever wished for, and all I desire is the chance to prove it. Will not you marry me, Bell?"

He looked very woeful as he brought out the ring. Jonathan's eloquence had only served to persuade him that Arabella was bound to refuse him. Her silence strengthened his conviction. It seemed the death knell of all his hopes.

In truth Arabella was overcome with laughter and did not trust herself to speak. She had no wish to offend Jonathan. But how like him to offer marriage in such an eccentric fashion – when she was aloft in this ridiculous position, engaged in the most mundane of household tasks! How baffled Henry would be if he had heard Jonathan's speech!

Before she could master herself, Jonathan continued:

"This was my mother's ring. My grandmother gave it to her. My mother set great store by it in consequence …. Of course, I do not know if you like garnets. I expect you do not. My father gave my mother a diamond ring, but she never wore it when she could avoid it. It became such a bone of contention between them that I should be very unwilling to make a gift of it to anyone I held in affection. If you wished, of course – but I should much prefer to purchase another ring for you. Perhaps I should have done that in the first place. You will say I ought to have done."

"You are so certain of what I will say that it seems hardly necessary for me to speak at all," Arabella observed. "You seem perfectly capable of carrying on the conversation for the both of us!"

Her lip quivered, but her face was in shadow and Jonathan could not see this. He said, rather blankly:

"Oh! I beg your pardon. I …. " He paused, his face working. "It is only what I should have expected. I hope you do not think I give you any blame. I only wish – may I still see you? You need fear no repeat of my proposal, since it is unwelcome to you – "

"Jonathan – Jonathan!" said Arabella repentantly. She bent and took his hands. "I am a wretched creature for tormenting you, but it is your own fault for not attending. Do not you realise you have not had my answer?"

Jonathan stared. "Have I not?"

"Of course I will marry you," she said, half-laughing. "I should be honoured to wear your mother's ring." To her own surprise she felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away and continued:

"It is beautiful – or at least, I am sure it is, though at this great height I cannot very well see it. Will you help me down so I may look at it?"

Jonathan swung her down into his arms, and did not propose to let her go. Arabella did not seem to object.

"Will you marry me?" he said, looking into her face. "Truly?"

"Is that such cause for astonishment?" said Arabella with a smile. "You must have believed you had some reason for hope."

Hers was the sweetest smile in the world. Jonathan touched her face, wondering.

"You mean to say you love me," he said, though his tone was rather more interrogative, and rather less confident, than he would have liked. The cheek under his hand went pink. 

"You know I do."

"I wish to hear you say it," decided Jonathan. "I have never heard the words from you and I fancy I shall like it very much."

"I do love you," said Arabella. Though she blushed, she did not look away. "Jonathan."

"It sounds very well," said Jonathan reflectively. "Say it again."

"You are importunate, Mr. Strange," said Arabella. "To press a lady so is hardly civil!"

"Say it again," said Jonathan. "And I shall be very much more than civil."

"I love you," repeated Arabella, and he caught her laughing mouth in a kiss.

Arabella smelt just as she ought, and kissing her was as full of delights as he had imagined. Jonathan was too much occupied with these delights for a time to express all that struck him as urgently needing to be said, but when he could bring himself to break away, he said:

"And I love you. Darling Bell! I am resolved that we shall be the happiest couple anyone ever heard of. Henry will marry us, of course."

As though the mention of the name had summoned its owner, the door swung open and Henry entered.

"Arabella," he said, "do you know which of our boxes contains Fordyce's Sermons? There is a paragraph I should like to make myself sure of – oh, I beg your pardon."

Jonathan was not about to release Arabella however she blushed, but he extended a hand to Henry, crying:

"Wish me joy, Henry. I shall return sympathy for it, for you will have hoped for a brother that could do you some credit. However, since Arabella has agreed to marry me, I hope you will grow reconciled in time."

Henry said everything that was suitable, of course. That the proposal should have been made and accepted was no more a surprise to him than it was to Arabella. He had expected something of the sort ever since Jonathan had appeared the night before. 

It was a match that could not but please him, being eligible in every regard. Henry could only regret that his living being situated in Cumberland would mean that he would see his sister infrequently after her marriage. Even that evil could not outweigh the benefits of the union, but it was this that cast a shadow upon his countenance when Jonathan said:

"I do not know why we should wait to be married. Everyone of any consequence is gathered here. How soon would you like it done, my love?"

Arabella said, "Do not be cross, Jonathan, but it is not long since your father's funeral, and some delay would only be decent. Besides, this house is not yet fit for Henry to live in."

"I beg you will not consider me," Henry began, but his sister said, smiling:

"That is not for you to decide, however! I mean to have my way in this, so pray do not seek to quarrel me out of it. It will not take so long to set the house to rights, and we need not be concerned about Jonathan in the meantime, you know. He will have his magic to occupy him."

"His magic? Oh yes!" Henry had clearly forgotten that Jonathan was to be a magician. "But how many spells did you buy from your man under the hedge, Jonathan?"

"Three. You will recall the other two were spells to make an obstinate man leave London."

"But those were very wicked spells, were they not? Designed to deceive their object and conjure all sorts of unpleasant illusions? Besides, surely you have no reason to make anyone leave London, however obstinate they are."

Jonathan had no wish for magic to seem anything but respectable. After all, Arabella might yet change her mind.

"Well," he said, "I did not say I would cast the remaining spells. I shall study them. That can do no harm. Indeed, I do not know why I should not invent my own spells. I am sure that is what the best magicians do."

"Indeed," said Henry doubtfully. 

But Arabella slid Jonathan's ring onto her finger – it looked just as well as Jonathan had imagined it – and said:

"Quite so. I shall look forward to finding out more of what it is 'we magicians' do."

"I think I can promise not to bore you," said Jonathan, kissing her hand. He felt quite capable of anything.


End file.
